autumn | severus snape

two

Ophelia crept through the garden, the dew on the grass soaking through the soles of her shoes. It was nearly two a.m., and she'd just returned from a nightclub Cory had dragged her to. Her head buzzed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. Cory had a way of making her forget things she didn't want to remember. He was the first friend she'd made since moving to England, and the only one she told about her brother's death. He didn't know of her magical powers, though, her parents had a long time ago forbidden her to speak of it around muggles.

She reached the side of the house and stared up at the window to her room. It was shut.

"Shit," she whispered, pressing her forehead to the glass. She must've pushed it too hard when she'd snuck out. Now it was locked from the inside.

She circled the house, avoiding the creaky floorboards on the porch, and headed for the patio. The glass door was often left unlocked. Her fingers met the handle and it gave way, she exhaled in relief as the door closed and the house was still quiet. It had been a week since the dinner with the Bentley's, and her father had been on edge ever since. It made the house a very dangerous place to be, her mother was walking on eggshells around him, and Ophelia found that it was easier and better for everyone if she just stayed away.

"Delisle!" A voice slipped from the darkness.

Her heart jumped in her throat, and she turned slowly to face the man in black robes, emerging from the shadows like a reprimand she hadn't earned.

"Snape," she said, forcing a smile. "Didn't realize you were the welcoming committee."

He stepped closer. "What exactly are you doing?" His voice was sharp, brittle with disapproval.

She raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing, Professor."

He didn't smile. Instead, he closed the space between them, his hand gripping her chin with clinical precision as he tilted her face toward the moonlight, inspecting her. She flinched and ripped his hand away, suddenly feeling very flustered.

"What the fuck?"

"You've been drinking."

"Is that illegal now?" she muttered and turned toward the fridge. Before she could open it, his hand slammed the door shut.

"I was going to make tea," she said defensively. "Or milk. I don't know, I was improvising."

"You're lucky I'm not marching straight to your father's study."

She stopped. "Wait, you're not?"

"Consider this a favor, Miss Delisle," he whispered. "One of very few that I will ever offer you."

"Wow," she muttered. "How incredibly generous."

He crossed his arms. "Go to bed."

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You can't tell me what to do," she snapped.

Snape glared at her in silence, taking his time to breathe in and out slowly, like he had made it an art form, his chest rising and falling with the sedative qualities of a lullaby. The night was so quiet that Ophelia could hear each breath with ease. She, however, felt like she couldn't breathe at all.

Then a door slammed somewhere in the house.

Ophelia's stomach turned. "Shit." She grabbed Snape's hand and yanked him into the pantry, pulling the door shut behind them.

The space was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. They were pressed chest-to-chest, his breath warm against her cheek, his robes brushing her bare arms. The sound of her father rummaging in the kitchen was a slow, creeping threat.

"Have you lost your mind?" Snape hissed.

"Shh." She slapped a hand over his mouth.

With every inhale, his chest would touch hers and Ophelia was certain he could feel her rapid heartbeat, because she could definitely feel his.

Her father opened the pantry door a crack. A sliver of light fell across their shoes. Snape's arm slid around her back, pulling her even closer, shielding her in shadow. He was as far up against the shelves as humanly possible.

Ophelia didn't breathe. Neither did he.

And then, thank Merlin, the door closed again. Her father's footsteps retreated.

Snape glared down at her and she quickly removed her hand from his face, whispering an apology. She was suddenly very aware of his hand on her lower back, and she blushed as she let her thoughts wander.

Snape stepped back slightly, his voice low against her ear. "You need to close off your mind."

The warmth of his touch vanished.

"How about not reading my goddamn mind," she whispered, trying to steady herself against a shelf.

He watched her as she breathed out heavily, rubbing her eyes. He could see the heaviness in her face, could practically feel her headache.

"Have you completely lost it?" he growled, stepping forward.

"Hey," she snapped. "You're welcome. I saved both our asses."

He scoffed. "Hardly the word I'd use."

"I panicked."

That quiet admission made him pause. Snape had been through enough in his lifetime to know it was fear that triggered the rage he was feeling towards the girl in front of him. It was what fuelled the hot burning anger inside of him.

Snape exhaled sharply and stormed out of the pantry.

Ophelia slumped back against the shelf, heart still pounding. What the hell had just happened?

She slipped through the dark hallway, feet light against the floorboards. But before she reached her room, the light flicked on.

Her father stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Where have you been?"

The favor from Snape seemed wasted now.

She didn't flinch. "Out."

"Going to have to give me more than that." His tone was soft, almost playful. "Unless you want me to wake your mother."

She rolled her eyes. "Cory took me dancing."

He nodded slowly. "Your mother doesn't like that kid."

"Yeah?" she muttered, eyes fixed on the ground. Somehow, talking to her father made her feel like she was ten years old again.

"Yeah," he said, and something in his voice made her look up.

He stepped toward her and offered the smallest of smiles. "Don't worry. I won't tell."

He nudged her shoulder, winked, and disappeared into the dark.

The moment he was gone, the adrenaline drained from her body. She closed the door to her room, locked it, and sat on the floor with her back against it.

Her thoughts were a storm. Not because of her father. Not because of Cory. But because of Snape.

And how, for a moment in the dark, she'd felt more seen than she had in months.